


cypress

by sakutsu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (but it's a tree this time), Angst, Author got a floriography book and went wild, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Language of Flowers, M/M, Miya Atsumu-centric, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, author likes flowers and no one can stop him, basically my love letter to atsumu, osamu's a great brother i love he, sakusa and atsumu are in love for eternity, this is basically a glorified threadfic, when i say theres a lot of tree talk i mean it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 14:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30073347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakutsu/pseuds/sakutsu
Summary: Cupressus sempervirens, also known as the Mediterranean Cypress, is a species of tree that’s rumored to survive over a thousand years. The oldest living case is the ‘Sarv-e-Abarkooh’ in Iran's Yazd Province, estimated to be around 4,000 to 5,000 years old.So what happened?
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	cypress

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I'd like to say thank you to Win for beta'ing this because it helped so much.
> 
> Before reading you should take into account that:
> 
> Cypress - Death, Mourning.  
> Cypress + Orange Blossom - Eternal devotion to a recently deceased loved one.

Cupressus sempervirens, also known as the Mediterranean Cypress, is a species of tree that’s rumored to survive over a thousand years. The oldest living case is the ‘Sarv-e-Abarkooh’ in Iran's Yazd Province, estimated to be around 4,000 to 5,000 years old. _So what happened?_

* * *

A tree is planted in the middle of October. In theory, it’s too early for the cypress to grow. They should be planted from November through March, so yes it may still grow, but it’s not expected to grow well. 

It grows with a second right next to it. Those who watch them place silent bets in their minds on which will grow better. At first, they’re indistinguishable, both of them growing the exact same. Neither prettier or taller than each other, just two alike trees.

Onlookers praise the gardener for having such well grown trees. There are others on the block, yes, but these two are exceptional. Taller and greener than any of the others, they’re praised as one. The gardener smiles and their leaves are brushed by a breeze.

Of course, nothing is exactly the same. It’s only a matter of time before one of them starts to grow with a curve. The first watches as it continues on its original path, wondering if the second will grow so curved that no one will know they’re the same.

* * *

Miya Atsumu, a cypress planted in fall, grows up exceptionally. He joins a professional volleyball team after graduation and grows even more. He’s constantly sprouting new leaves, some smooth and some scale-like, and people are fascinated by his shape. He meets some of the most important people in his life by the time he’s 32. 

Let it be known that there are three major parts to a cypress leaf.

The first is what keeps everything together. It’s stable and tough enough that it doesn’t break too easily, yet flexible enough to bend if need be. The branch of a leaf is the base. It helps the leaves to grow — it’s always there, even when they start to wilt and even when the leaf falls off a tree.

His brother — the tree that grew with him, and still grows on his own path — can be considered a branch too. Breezes blow and things change but still his brother is the one who keeps him stable. 

He’s successful in his own right, being the owner of multiple restaurants at such a young age. That took work though — Atsumu knows it wasn’t easy. He saw the days Osamu would break into tears while sitting at his desk trying to figure out the basics. He heard the cracks in Osamu’s voice when they were too far to see each other in person, but his twin called at 2:15 in the morning anyway just to get his mind off the spreadsheet on his computer. He witnessed the struggle, he knows it’s a challenge, but Atsumu still hopes that one day he can succeed as much as Osamu has.

_He doesn’t know that he already has._

Osamu isn’t _just_ successful though. He’s Atsumu’s twin. They’ve grown up together. They’ve giggled and had fights and held each other close at night. One time, when they were eight and home alone, there was a knock at the door. They both peeked out the window to see who it was, but there was no one to be seen. Atsumu got scared and ran into their closet, and Osamu ran after him. 

Their parents came home to a package on the porch and their twins curled up in the closet, tight grips locking themselves as they slept.

* * *

The second part is Miya Atsumu himself. The individual leaves and needles on a cypress is proof of his existence. Accomplishments, emotions, and memories grow out in long stems rooting from the branch itself. 

A set. Numb fingers bend under a volleyball and a crash booms throughout the room. Everything is silent for a moment, frozen, before the room breaks out in cheers. Tears and sweat mix with the ground and a seed is planted, a memory and accomplishment rooted into the floors of the Olympic Court. 

They’ve won, of course. The winning set is thanks to him and everyone on the team has tears streaming down their face. Exhaustion fills his chest, and Bokuto hugs him with a grip that squeezes the remaining air out of his lungs meanwhile Atsumu squeezes back just as hard. Knees fall to the floor across the court and blond hair leans on the shoulder of a raven. 

“Nice spike, Omi,” is whispered in gasped breaths and the other feels tears prick his eyes. The cheering of the crowd dies down eventually and wobbly feet attempt to rise, fingertips placed on the ground to gain balance. 

They stand, the team slowly begins walking out and Atsumu does too. His mind is autopilot and his brain is clouded, exhaustion and thrill screaming at the tissues — so many thoughts run through his head and yet none process.

They’re not out of eye yet. Only nearing the borders of the court, all sights are set on the winning team walking out. A hand envelops a wrist. An arm is pulled. Lips are sealed with adrenaline making them quiver, another individual leaf grows watered by emotion and courage. The public watches a cypress and an orange blossom share what was once a whispered wind.

* * *

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a cone. All trees have a form of preservation, encapsulating its essence into a seed and dropping it into dirt in one last attempt to share itself with the world and keep on living.

He’s not just a cone, though — he breathes and lives and is an individual separate from the leaf. He can leave at any time and yet he chooses to stay. Chooses to associate himself with the needles and branches, allowing himself to give life to those who let him, even when he’s closed off. His emotions are held firmly inside the cone, though sometimes cones can crack too.

Sometimes cones will crack and tears will spill on a couch late at night, Atsumu and Kiyoomi hugging each other and whispering words that mean nothing to the chilled air yet everything to those spoken to. Hundreds of confessions are stored in small pockets and kisses seal the cracks, allowing each other to grow in them too.

A finger traces a hip and a head rests on a chest, listening to a heartbeat that sounds like sap rushing through veins. _I love you’s_ exchange in taps and sighs and the show on the tv is muffled in their ears — they’re only listening to each other. 

Promises of forever are given and the rings on their fingers reflect that they will be kept. 

Cones can be closed off and cracked and resealed. Love and care fills them and Kiyoomi is an example of that. Holding both himself and Atsumu as individuals and one, promising life lived on when a tree is cut. Dropped into the dirt and grass when the time comes and holding memories public and private both, the stars glow in a last twinkle.

* * *

Sometimes, trees are built and grow exceptionally. Life, sweat, tears, love, and hugs in the darkest of closests encompass their leaves and fulfillment swamps their bark. Winds blow with change and promises; some sway leaves, while others tear branches off.

Occasionally, the same trees are cut. 

Atsumu is a cypress born in fall that grows up with love and care, surrounded by breezes that hug his skin. Genuine smiles flood through the majority of his leaves, both from himself and from those he’s met. Cypress trees aren’t believed to grow well in fall, yet he succeeded.

Kiyoomi buries him in the roots of a tree. Biodegradable, the cypress ashes merge with the roots of an orange tree and white flowers bloom in the spring. Tears water the ground from branches to cones alike and a new tree blossoms. 

Miya Atsumu wasn’t a ‘Sarv-e-Abarkooh’, but he didn’t have to be; cones will drop and branches will extend and he will be a figure devoted to by some for eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this because I am a victorian flower language nerd and ahhh thank you for reading!
> 
> Thank you to [Win](https://twitter.com/nen1tsu2) for beta'ing this you're so wonderful.
> 
> You can find me through my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kozumeaex/status/1371667366162034688?s=20) or my [Carrd.](https://sakutsu.carrd.co/)


End file.
